Tryin' to tell a story
by glass-jars
Summary: It starts off entirely dialogue, with Gabriel recording some random thoughts on Sam, but then there is some actual writing. Just for fun and I think what you would call a "canon au" because they still are the same beings and stuff, but it's a different plotline or whatever since Gabe's here. Whatever. I'll shut up now. I'm a huge dork and this is dorky. Quite a bit of swearing.


"Is this thing on?"

"Oh! there we go."

"Just push the button, Gabriel."

"Shut up, asshole, I already did. See?"

"Ah."

"Shit. This is a dumb idea."

"I just thought it might be a good idea for you to get your thoughts into words. Even if you don't want to tell—"

"Alright, _alright_!"

"Gabriel—"

"Keep your panties on, Bro."

"..."

"Okay. Not gonna lie—I'm a little drunk, but here goes nothin'."

"You can't get drunk, Gabriel."

"Oh shut up. Let me have my fun. You probably already know who I'm talking about. He's real fuckin' tall. A goddamn skyscraper. His hair is stupid and girly and his sideburns stretch halfway across his face but he manages not to look like a complete tool, which, really, is baffling to me."

"Gabriel, I don't think—"

"Shut the fuck up Castiel."

"I—"

"Sam goddamn Winchester is a royal pain in my ass. And I don't mean that literally. He seems like this really kind, caring guy who would never hurt a fly, and I mean... He kind of is? Sometimes. But then he'll just fuckin'—Have you seen some of his pranks? I mean, gluing his brother to a beer bottle is one thing, but just the other day I was going about my business like normal and I may or may not have given his computer a virus completely accidentally on purpose and—"

"Gabriel. You're rambling."

"Ah, shut your face. Anyway, as I was just about to say, that little—well... big—bastard replaced all of the sugar in the motel room with salt and I didn't notice, so I ended up pouring a fuckload of salt into my coffee. Thank the powers that be that I'm a powerful creature of Heaven, and could fix my coffee with a snap, or I woulda wrung that boy's neck for messing with my sugar!"

"Almost did wring his neck anyway..."

"ANYWAY."

"I dunno man. He's infuriating sometimes, but I figure he kinda has the right to be, since I'm pretty sure I'm like twice as infuriating and possibly a lot more dangerous. Does the kiddo good to let loose sometimes, anyhow. I've glanced into that big brain of his a coupla times and wooooooow that is not a pretty place to be. These two are pretty screwed up if you ask me."

"Are you just going to insult him for the entirety of this recording, or do you plan on maybe saying something positive?"

"Fuck you, man. I'm an Archangel. I don't have to take your shit. What if I express my affection through insults, huh? What if you just interrupted my equivalent of a heartfelt confession of love or something?"

"I'm fairly certain that's not what I interrupted."

"Such a wet blanket sometimes, I swear to..."

"Anyway, whatever. Just. Gotta gather myself. Haven't spent much of my life complimenting people, okay? I'm used to killing and inflicting justice and making people go bald."

"Gabriel."

"UGH. Okay, okay."

"I'll admit it."

"I let him get away with his juvenile pranks 99% of the time because... I dunno. Because he's having fun when he does it, and this weird _weight_ lifts of his stupidly bright soul and he just gets this big ol' fuckin' grin like he's done the most hilarious thing on God's green Earth and... Well."

"...?"

"C'mon man, you know I can't resist dimples!"

"Actually, I didn't know that."

"Well it's true. His smile is so adorable. It's not fair. How can this big lumbering oaf with his caveman hair and his monster bod have a smile like a little kid?! I mean, his eyes even get all squinty!"

"Don't laugh at me!"

"I wasn't—"

"You were _gonna_!"

"Sure. Are you going to...?"

"Yeah I'll keep going. Where was I?"

"His smile is a poor fit for his body."

"I definitely did not say that. Sure it's totally different from the kind of smile you'd expect a caveman to have, but... Well... It's not bad at all. It suits him somehow. Like... He's huge, yeah. But not in that big threatening bodybuilder way. He's huge but he's got these awkward long legs and he's super dopey—like a really big puppy. You know the kind. With the floppy ears and the waggly tail and feet too big for its body. But in human form. That's Sam. He makes stupid jokes, and a lot of the time he's really serious, and he can fight pretty well, but he's this _major_ klutz the rest of the time—just last week, I mean. Well you were there, Cas. You remember that?"

"Sure. But, why don't you tell the story anyway? You seem to be enjoying yourself."

"Well alright. Okay. Last week Dean and Sam were doing their _thang_, you know. 'Saving people, hunting things,' that whole shtick. And well. I mean, you know Sam. He was doing his whole big threatening looming thing with the knife and all, backing Dean up when they cornered like... a fucking vampire or something easy like that. And they were advancing on it, and I was sorta hovering around invisibly just in case, and well you were locked in the car which is pretty humiliating but anyway... They were advancing on this cowering sonnuvabitch and all outta nowhere Sam tripped on his feet! Like. There was nothing there! At all! They were in a parking lot! And so his knife goes fucking flying, and he does a goddamn faceplant into Dean, knocking him straight into the bloodsucker and they all topple into the friggin' drainage ditch by the parking spaces and all you can see is some flailing, and somehow they killed the vampire, and afterward, when they were standing outside of the Impala again, dripping wet, you just had Dean shouting Sam's name and widening his eyes like a fucking rabbit. He sounded soooooooooooo pissed off... It was hilarious."

"Of course, then I had to actually do stuff, because Sam—the jerk—prayed for me and you know how I feel about not showing up when someone's praying to you, so I poofed up and they made me dry them off. Ungrateful dipshits didn't even thank me. But Dean was appeased so Sam smiled at me, but that's still not a good way to say thanks, man."

"Oh, of course not."

"I'll punch you."

"I'm sure you will."

"You know what, I'm done with this! You just keep making fun of me!"

"Gabriel, wait—"

"No! I'm turning it off!"

"Goddamit Castiel give it back!"

"No."

"Why are all of you fuckers so damn tall?!"

"..."

"Shit."

"Hello, Sam."

"Guys? Why are you fighting over a tape recorder?"

"Uh."

"Gabriel was just—"

"I _will_ destroy you if you say another word, little brother."

"..."

"Guys?"

"WHOA! Jesus Christ, Gabriel! Don't set things on fire in the motel room!" Sam stared down at the melting tape recorder on the linoleum.

"...It was an accident." Gabe smirked, looking not at all sorry as he rocked back on his heels.

Sam rolled his eyes. "What was on that thing anyway?" He shoved his hands in his pocket

"NOTHI— OW! Why'd you hit me?!" Gabriel rubbed his arm, glaring at Cas.

Castiel stared back at him, unamused, and turned to face Sam. "Gabriel was telling the story of how you pushed Dean into a drainage channel." Sam couldn't say for sure, but it looked like Cas was holding back a smile.

Then he processed what Cas said.

"Wha—I didn't _push_ him! I _tripped_! Jeez." He huffed, crossing his arms.

"My apologies. The story of how you tripped." Castiel nodded solemnly.

Sam shifted awkwardly, and looked Gabe in the eye. "...Why were you recording it? And... you were _there_, Cas." He raised an eyebrow at Castiel, smiling uncertainly.

"Don't you dare, Castiel." Gabe's pointed finger was extremely non-threatening, considering his general stature, and the delicacy of his hands. Castiel tilted his head at Gabriel.

"For posterity."

Sam snorted. "For posterity. What like, he's gonna play this for his kids one day? He's an _Archangel_. And why would his kids want to hear a story about _my_ clumsiness?" He rolled his eyes. "Great story to tell your little nephilim, Gabe."

Cas moved to speak, and Gabriel raised his eyebrows high at him. "Castiel..." His expression was dead serious.

Castiel ignored him.

"It started out, originally, as a description of—"

Castiel disappeared with a rustle of feathers and a tiny flash of gold light. Glitter drifted to the tiles.

Sam gaped, then pointed accusingly at Gabe. "_GABRIEL_! Where the fuck did you send him? Dean's gonna kill me if I tell him I just let you poof his heterosexual life partner off to God knows where!" He ran a hand through his hair, eyes wider than before.

Gabriel scoffed. "He's just in the car, don't worry."

"Why'd you send him to the car?" Sam frowned thoughtfully.

Gabriel shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet Sam's eyes. "Didn't want him to tell you."

Sam sat down on one of the motel's beds. "Tell me what? What was that recording?"

Gabriel shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets and fidgeting somewhat where he stood. "Just some stuff." He twitched out half a smirk.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude. If you were recording stories of your sexual conquests I don't wanna hear it. I get enough of that from Dean." He lay back on the bed. "You weren't though, were you? Not if a story about me being a fucking moron was in there."

"Hey, I don't think you're a fucking moron." Gabriel grinned teasingly. "Bit of an idiot sometimes, but, hey, who isn't an idiot?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, well..." He frowned again. "Really, though, what was on it?"

Gabriel smirked widely. "Tell you what." He pulled his hands from his pockets, and wiped his palms on his jeans with a quick swipe. Sam raised an eyebrow, and Gabe rushed headlong to continue, "How 'bout we go on a date some time, and I give you the tape to listen to, good as new?"

Sam stared at Gabriel.

Gabriel winked saucily, as if he weren't sweating bullets.

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he smiled and looked down at his hands. "Sure. Why not?"

Gabriel grinned widely. "Cool." He waggled his eyebrows, and with a snap of his fingers he was gone, leaving behind no evidence of his presence but a brand new tape recorder with a glittery pink bow wrapped around it and a note that said, "I'll pick you up at 7. Dress nice."

Sam snorted.

"What a fucking dork."

He called Castiel back in, and tucked the tape recorder into his bag for later listening.

/end


End file.
